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As exhausted as I was after
days of travel, the moment we arrived in Pune, I felt a rush of energy. I
immediately attributed it to BKS Iyengar’s presence in the city that was his
home since his teenage years. Guruji’s shakti extends beyond the spiritual
realm into the earthly realm of a December dawn as we finally reached our
house. My heart swelled nearly to the point of tears. I was ready to head over
to the Iyengar Institute, but I forced myself to lie down, knowing that I would
crash and burn by afternoon if I didn’t get at least a few hours of sleep.

Guruji’s shakti and legacy
extend beyond Pune, of course, all the way to places like Detroit, and our yoga
co-op home. But it feels strongest and most palpable here. This is my 6th
stay in Pune, and each time, it feels more and more like a spiritual home to
me. Iyengar practitioners come from all the continents to study with the
Iyengar family and to delve deep into their own practice, but based on many
conversations, not everyone loves coming here.

The air quality has gotten
worse over the years, though the dog poop on the sidewalk has decreased. Now it
seems the rainy season never quite ends, interspersing periods of dusty
dryness. Prices have skyrocketed, creating a bigger and bigger gap between the
haves and have-nots, while expecting the foreigners coming to the Institute to
shell out more and more.

Still, I persist. I find a
way by hook or crook to get here every 2 years like clockwork. I keep my living
expenses ridiculously low so that my extremely modest teaching income goes
right back into Iyengar Yoga study and travel. Walking through the gates of
RIMYI (Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute), I am reminded of all the
transformative moments I have experienced here: Guruji’s grand entry into the
practice hall every morning, often at the elbow of his granddaughter, Abhijata,
and later, with his great granddaughter in his arms; practicing in the same
room as Guruji, while keeping one eye on him; so many teaching gems, each worth
a lifetime of contemplation; and quiet afternoons in the library with Guruji at
his desk.

There have been just as many
deeply humbling moments as well, where I felt shaken to the core, coming to
fully face my own ignorance and lack of understanding. But the practice of
Iyengar Yoga teaches us that THAT is where the transformative power lies. “What
I know is not important,” Guruji reminds us, “It is what I don’t know that is
important,” while encouraging us to “Go from the known to the unknown, the
finite to the infinite.”

And so I wake early to the
songs of tropical birds and the sounds of sweeping, and nourish myself with
tulsi tea, and homemade yogurt with pomegranate and a mini-banana, head over to
the Institute to crack myself open, again and again. Oh, those hamstrings,
yikes, that stiff thoracic spine, the ache of ropey groins, and that clogged,
tamasic mind. I do feel “hopeless, helpless, and hapless” much of the time, as
Prashantji chides.

But there are moments of
sattvic clarity, and I live for these moments, when I glimpse my own eternal
infinite, and see right through the limitations of day-to-day life. It might be
in the stillness after a long Śīrṣāsana, or
getting deeper than I ever thought possible in an impossible pose, or a sudden
realization that makes me laugh out loud.

I extend unending gratitude
to all my teachers and students over the years that have facilitated my study
here. May I open myself to fully absorb the experience to bring back all I can
to share with you.